Reverse Sublimation

“This is stupid,” I declared loudly.

Brody and I were standing in the middle of a nice basement. Well, it would have seemed nice were it not for the fifty or so drunken idiots that swarmed the place. I was surrounded by a mass of people who were yelling – not talking, but screaming at the top of their lungs – because they were too smashed to understand what anyone was saying. Hell, I doubted that they could understand what they were saying themselves. I was surrounded by dumbasses.

On the brighter side, I’ve never felt so intelligent in my life.

“Oh, cheer up,” Brody chirruped. “If you would just lighten up, you would be having a lot more fun right now.”

“You’re right,” I said, and he seemed happy that I agreed with him. “What’s more fun than getting shit faced with a bunch of people I’ve never met before?”

“Exactly,” he said, beaming, clearly not catching onto my sarcasm.

“Yeah,” I continued, “maybe if I’m lucky I can make out with a few random strangers and hopefully by the end of the night I can pick up a few more STDs to add to my collection.”

He scowled, finally catching on to my bitterness. “You’re so cynical,” he stated, and handed me a red Solo cup filled half way with a bronze liquid. “Drink this! It’ll cheer you up.”

“What is this?” I said, sniffing the drink and immediately recoiling from its putrid smell. If I wasn’t mistaken, it could have been whiskey or tequila. Or both.

“Does it matter?” he replied. “Either way, it’s going to end up killing your brain cells.”

“Very good point,” I said. “That may be the most intelligent thing you’ve said since...well, ever.”

“That’s sweet. So…are you going to drink that or what?”

“What is a good question,” I answered.

I saw him sigh, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blaring music and yelling people. “You know, if you get drunk you’ll enjoy yourself much better.”

“I prefer to sulk in solitude,” I countered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find a dark corner to sit in. Alone.”

“I have a better idea,” he said. “How about this: We’ll go our separate ways, get incredibly drunk, and then rendezvous back at this spot in a half hour.”

“Why would I ever do that?” I inquired.

“I want to have a conversation with you while we’re both drunk,” he replied. “It could be very interesting.”

“Yeah. Right,” I said dryly.

“It’s a date, then,” he said. I was about to tell him that his idea was a no-go, but before I could even open my mouth he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd. Apparently he was very intent on following his plan. Clearly, Brody thought that every idea he had was absolutely brilliant.

“Whatever,” I shrugged. At least I had gotten rid of him. I wasn’t going to rendezvous with him at all, of course—now was my time to escape.

I proceeded to shove through the mass of people, careful not to have anyone spill their drinks on me. Along the way I placed my drink on the edge of the table that was being used for beer pong. I had no intentions of drinking tonight—or ever, for that matter. At least until I was of legal age.

“Excuse me...pardon me...please move...Ow!” I cried out in surprise as a girl almost ran head-first into me. She attempted to steady herself, but failed miserably as she stumbled forward and spilled a red-tinted drink all over the front of my shirt. She was very obviously drunk.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” she apologized loudly. I had to admit, she did look sincere about it, but that didn’t prevent the scowl from spreading across my face. I liked this shirt.

“Let me help clean you up,” she offered. I looked up at the girl. It was hard to see over the dim lights of the basement, but from what I could tell she had a pretty Asian face framed by long black hair with red streaks in it. She looked rather thin and lacked any real curves, making her look frail, but she negated this with layers of black tattered clothes that gave her a punkish, tough appearance.

“No thanks,” I declined, not bothering to sound polite. “I think I’m just going to go home.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, slurring on her words. “I won’t let you go home because of me!”

“Seriously, it’s fine, I just – ” But as I tried to push past her, she grabbed my by the shoulders and steered my over to the counter that was attached to the wall. It was probably built to act as a mini kitchen (like I said, this was a nice basement; the kid that lived in this house was clearly rich), but currently it was being used as a bar.

“Let me at least make you a drink,” she persisted. Judging by the tightness of her grip on my arm, I assumed I had no way out of this: I wasn’t going home any time soon.

Nevertheless my morals remained strong and I had no intention of drinking underage. “I don’t want any alcohol,” I told to the girl. I hoped she wasn’t the kind of person that would make fun of you for something like that or peer pressure you into doing it.

“Oh,” she said, seeming to understand. “Here, let me just give you this, then.” She reached to the opposite side of the counter and grabbed another red cup, which was filled with a brown-colored drink.

“No, I really don’t – ”

“It’s not alcoholic,” she interrupted, and reassured me with a smile. “Just drink it so you look like you’re getting drunk. That way no one will bother you about it.”

I shrugged. I guess I could see the logic behind that. I took the drink from her and smelled it hesitantly. It was sweet. “What is it?” I asked.

“What?” she yelled. As she spoke, a fast-paced song had just come on over the stereo and a group of girls, who kept repeating the drunken phrase ‘Oh my god I love this song!’ had the sound system turned up to full blast. I watched with mild disgust as the group of three attention-starved girls, drinks in hand, climbed on top of a table and began dancing. Hoots and wolf whistles echoed throughout the room, adding onto the already-deafening noise.

“I said,” I yelled as loud as I could as the music was turned up even louder (apparently some perverted boys thought that the louder the music, the more promiscuously the girls would dance), “what is it?”

“Oh!” she replied, also yelling, “it’s just iced tea!”

I took a small sip of the drink to try it out. It tasted a little different than iced tea, but I couldn’t detect anything alcoholic in it. I had been suspicious of the drink before, and how it just so happened to be sitting there for the girl to grab, but my suspicions were now gone. “Okay, then,” I said, shrugging, and continued to drink more.

“I’m Vicki!” the girl shouted, and I shook her hand.

“Winnie,” I replied. I smiled at her, glad that I had found someone nice at the party. I didn’t have any of my own friends here (they would probably have a heart attack if they found out I was at a party like this), so it was nice to actually have someone to talk to. Despite what I said to Brody earlier about sulking in a dark corner, I actually don’t like looking like a complete loner.

I took another large gulp of my iced tea. “This is really good!” I said, pointing to the drink.

She grinned. “I knew you’d like it!”

I smiled back and drank some more.

* * *

“This is really good,” I slurred, not even thirty minutes later. Vicki giggled as I swayed in place; I couldn’t even stand up straight. I didn’t understand the feeling I had at all. It had snuck up on me sneakily like a jaguar pouncing on its prey, and I didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late. Now, the room was spinning and I was a million times happier, and I smiled at complete strangers as they walked by. Whatever this feeling was, I liked it.

I lifted the cup up to my mouth, but no sweet iced tea met my lips. “Oh no!” I gasped melodramatically. “All gone!”

“We can go get more!” Vicki suggested excitedly. I smiled at her.

“You’re so smart,” I complimented. “I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“Yeah!” she said enthusiastically. “Best friends!”

“Best friends,” I repeated, and together the two of us stumbled back to the bar. It was so easy making friends when you felt like this.

“Okay,” I said, trying my best to be serious as I looked down at the variety of alcohol that lay before me. “Okay, I’ll just, uh...take this, and...um...” I turned to Vicki to ask her how to make my iced tea, but she had disappeared. I thought I saw her walk off with some guy, so I just shrugged and let her go. “Kids these days,” I muttered to myself. I giggled to myself, even though I wasn’t even that funny. I proceeded to mix random drinks together in my Solo cup, all the while repeating myself over and over in a sing song voice: “Kids, kids, kids these days.”

“Well someone seems to be a lot happier,” said a familiar voice behind me. “I’m disappointed, though. You didn’t meet me back at our spot. I thought – ”

“Brody!” I screamed excitedly, spinning around to greet him. Unfortunately spinning didn’t seem to be such a good idea, and I almost toppled to the ground.

“Woah,” he said surprised, but luckily his reflexes were fast enough for him to grab my waist and catch me. I noticed that we were quite close to each other now, and my body was pressed firmly against his. I could feel his breath caress my face...and then I realized that it smelled strongly of whiskey.

I pointed my finger at his face, pressing it against his nose. “You’re drunk,” I stated.

“Looks like I’m not the only one,” he laughed, clearly impressed. “Now, come on, I – ”

“Wait!” I said seriously before he could drag me away to who-knows-where. “I need to ask you a very serious question. And you have to answer seriously. Or else.”

He frowned, slightly afraid by my sudden graveness. “Or else what?”

“Or else you explode,” I replied, and I grabbed him roughly by the collar and brought his face very close to mine. “Patrick Brody, this is a very serious issue. Do you think I’m pretty?”

He stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“Hey! That isn’t funny!”

“Jesus, Pooh Bear, what did you drink?”

I frowned. “Just the iced tea Vicki gave me.”

“Vicki?” he asked curiously. “Did you say Vicki made it for you?”

“You really don’t think I’m pretty?” I practically wailed.

“Yes, Pooh Bear. Of course you’re pretty,” he said, biting back a grin.

“The prettiest?”

“The prettiest.”

“Okay. Good.” I smiled broadly at him.

He returned my smile.

Suddenly I became very aware of how close we were standing.

“Brody...” I started, but my words trailed off. I had forgotten what I was going to say, because I randomly realized how much I liked the smell of jasmine and cigarettes. I watched in (pleasant?) surprise as Brody slowly leaned down towards me…

Suddenly, Vicki returned and walked up to the two of us. “Hey Brody,” she said. “How do you like the drunk version of Winnie?”

He immediately pulled away from me, and any if there was any potential for a kiss coming my way, it was now gone. “I like her,” he stated. “I like her a lot.” He smiled at me.

Something then clicked in my mind and I gasped. “You know him?” I asked.

Vicki smiled. “Of course! You didn’t think that Brody here would let you come to a party and stay sober, did you?”

“You planned this?” I asked, turning to Brody now. “You tricked me?”

He only laughed. I felt betrayed; I immediately turned from fun-drunk to angry-drunk.

“You know what? You’re an asshole when you’re drunk,” I seethed, and began to walk away.

“Wait, Winnie!” he called after me, but I ignored him and pushed through the crowd of people, trying to find the exit. Finding the door was a lot more difficult than I could have ever imagined, not because of the dim lighting, but because everything in the room just wouldn’t stop spinning. It was getting me frustrated.

“Why won’t the floor stop moving?” I demanded angrily at the carpet. “God, I feel so...sick...” However, the carpet didn’t reply, so I stepped on its face and kept searching for my way out of here. After another five minutes of searching for – and failing – to find the door, I regrettably realized that I needed Brody’s help. I could try to ask him for directions, at least.

I turned to go back to the bar, where I had seen him last. I pushed back through the mass of people, and finally I got back to where I left him, and I felt mildly happy – but that feeling was suddenly replaced by shock. And then anger. And then, finally, sadness.

I felt these range of emotions because as I came back to the bar, I saw something that was both surprising and repulsive. It was something that I would never have imagined happening. It made me want to throw up all over the place but at the same time I kind of felt like crying.

Brody was standing there. With Brittany Grant. And they were kissing.

Not just a peck on the lips, though. This was a full on, tongue-in-the-throat, eating-face make out session. I suddenly welled up in anger. How could Brody do this to me? He knew exactly who she was; he knew she was dating my ex, and he knew that I was hurt by it. And Brittany...Ugh! She can’t have both of them. That’s not fair!

My mind was jumbled with too many thoughts and emotions, and I was too dizzy and furious to try to figure out what they meant. I decided I had enough. I stomped right up to Brody and, once he had seen me and removed his tongue from Brittany’s disgusting mouth, I slapped him across the face.

I could have seethed a number of terrible curse words at him, but at this point I was so angry I didn’t really have anything to say. I gave him a deathly look, which seemed to have a better effect than any insult I could have mustered, and at that I spun on my heel in a silent rage and violently shoved through the crowd, deciding right then and there that I was never going to talk to him again.

Suddenly, though, the noise in the room got much, much louder – and this time it wasn’t from the music. People were yelling now, not in drunken conversation, but in panicked voices.

“Run!” shouted a guy that I recognized from my English class. “The cops are here!” At that, he followed the rest of the crowd as everyone made their way up the staircase or out of the side door.

“Doll face!” Brody said, running up to me. For the first time since I met him, he looked panicked. “Come on, we need to get out of here – the cops – You have to come with me. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said stubbornly, folding my arms.

“But we need to leave, or else – ”

“FREEZE!”

And then I threw up. All over Brody’s shoes.